


Beyond the Gate

by B_does_the_write_thing



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Other, Prompt Verse, i just have a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_does_the_write_thing/pseuds/B_does_the_write_thing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of One Shots from Prompts based off The Gate.  Best to read that beforehand, it has notes when and where to read these little one shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrival of Emma Swann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon promoted: Emma's Swann's First Day

Bracing herself, Emma squeezed her eyes shut tight and took the step forward that would change her life forever.

Nothing happened.

Creaking an eye open in confusion, Emma took in her new surroundings.

Which happened to include a rather stunned young man.

The two of them stared each other down for a moment, the soft cries of an animal floating down to them from the treetops surrounding them.

Emma looked quickly away from the dark doe eyes watching her, glancing behind her to see The Gate started to shimmer, large black iron grills starting to creak close. She could see the sand and mountains of the lakebed she had just left shimmer and start to fade away- the forest of this world reclaiming its space.

A branch creaked. Emma spun back to face her unexpected greeting party, hand going to her hip to grasp at the sword she had in her father’s scabbard.

An unanticipated stab of longing for her father’s voice pierced her far sharper than any blade.

The man had his hand on his own hip now, a curious metal object glittering in his scabbard. Emma cocked her head, blonde hair spilling over her shoulder despite her tying it back in a pirate’s knot at the base of her head.

Your hair has a mind of it’s own, her mother had always sighed in affection, tickling the strands with her long pale fingers.

Emma hated her hair. Yellow buttered locks like spun gold- despite her mother’s raven black tresses and her father’s sandy brown hair.

Just another reminder she was different.

“The Gate closes,” called the stranger. Emma exhaled, relaxing her hold on her sword.

 

“You must be the Guardian,” Emma said in some relief. She sank into a short bow, exposing the back of her neck to him. It was a simple gesture but she hoped the Believer would understand her display of submission.

“You are not welcome in this land past the dawn of this day,” the Guardian said formally, hand still firmly placed at his hip.

Emma straightened, nodding her understanding.

“I am Princess Emma of the Fourth Kingdom,” she introduced herself, the formality of state coloring her tone and lending her some authority. “I am here as steward of Fae- to train as Guardian.”

The man’s face crumpled in puzzlement, eyes flickering behind her. Emma kept her gaze on him. He was younger than she had been expecting- curly brown hair and dark brown eyes the color of the trees in the Enchanted Forest. His lips were full, pouting in seriousness.

He wore an odd mix of breeches- thick material that covered his legs like the breeches in current fashion in her kingdom but not showing the muscles beneath as openly. He wore dark leather boots, covered in mud and slush. A jacket hid his chest from her, but a shining metal of some sort winked at her in the starlight.

Emma thought him rather odd looking.

He must have felt the same way because he quirked a brow at her, slowly raising his hands up and away from his weapon.

“There has not been a steward since my great-grandfather’s time,” the Guardian muttered darkly, obviously displeased. “Does the Council think my family is remiss in its duties, Your Royal Highness?”

“Emma,” she snapped, looking away from him in disgust.

“You’ll forgive me, Your Royal Highness,” the Guardian shot back, crossing his arms before him and leaning back against the nearest tree. He still kept a careful eye on her but he knew the terrain better than she. She surveyed it as he continued,” but I can’t just take your word that you were sent by the Council.”

“Because I’m a woman?” Emma growled, hand straying back to her sword.

He laughed. Emma stopped, confused, as she glared at him. She could be at his throat in less than four steps, but it was dark and she had spied roots sticking up from the trees closer to her- she couldn’t trust she wouldn’t trip over one in her haste to get to him.

“No, because you’re a royal wearing stolen clothes and claiming to be sent from the Council when we both know the Council wouldn’t have waited to The Gate was about to close to send someone through without the proper formalities.”

Emma felt a headache fast approaching. Sunrays started to appear over the tips of the nearby trees and she ducked her head to avoid them.

“How do you know these are stolen articles?” Emma asked, distracting him from his other questions.

“Because they’re boy’s clothes and much too tight on you, Your Royal Highness,” the man answered back promptly. His eyes went behind her and Emma turned to glance over her shoulder. The Gate was almost closed-

And then, before she could respond, he had her by the throat.

He had been silent as a wolf – her life in his hands before she could blink. He could throw her through the Gate – she would be powerless to stop him- and then what? She would be forced to wait another year- another hopeless year-

“Please,” Emma chocked out, hands flying to his around her neck. “I don’t belong there.”

“That’s not up to me,” the Guardian sighed, but still he hesitated. Emma’s eyes fluttered close, waiting for the feeling of being thrown through- anticipating the warm sand of the summer day back in Fae.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, The Gate swung close with a clang and the sun came up fully over the treetops, illuminating the two in the clearing.

The Guardian looked down at her, scruff of a beard starting to color his jaw in the dawn light. He had a tic in his jaw as he clenched it but he released his grip on her- letting her heels sink back down into the dirt.

“They’ll know your Fae,” he said with a growl, rustling his curls with the hand that had gripped her just seconds ago.

“I know,” Emma whispered, her own fingers tracing the skin of her neck.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” the Guardian muttered, turning away from her and heading back into the thick of the woods. Emma stood; uncertainty and adrenaline making her feel faint for a moment as she tried to gain her composure.

“Are you coming?” came the voice through the trees. The Guardian was standing in the growing sunlight, hands on his hips in exasperation.

Emma nodded tightly, hurrying forward to catch up with him as he prowled through the trees. He followed no path and Emma felt her eyes straying back to him when she meant to be tracking their progress in case she ever needed to get back here without him.

“Don’t make me regret this, Princess,” the man sighed under his breath as they reached the edge of town. Emma was silent, staring down at the buildings, all dark in the dawn sunlight. On a high hill nearby, a large Inn was stirring to life- windows being thrown open and people spilling out into the large garden- all laughing and greeting the sun as an old friend.

Emma watched them in silence. They looked so much like Fae folk- they just lacked the inherent magic of her kind.

“So, Princess,” the Guardian said, tiredness coloring his voice. “ What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know,” Emma confessed, turning to face him. “Maybe something to eat?”

He shook his head with a chuckle, putting his thumbs in the back pockets of the tight breech like pants he wore. “We’ll have to get you some clothes first,” he said, eyes glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “You look ridiculous.”

Emma felt an odd tingle dance along her spine and she had to hide the grin that slid across her face.

“Do I?” She asked, tilting her head to gaze at him with her bright blue eyes.

He twitched his nose, nodding solemnly. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

The tingle seared again and Emma couldn’t help but smile openly at him now. He looked slightly uncomfortable at this, shifting his weight. “Well, then by all means,” Emma teased, lacing her arm through his. “Let’s get me some Believer clothes.”

“God, we’ve got a lot to teach you,” the Guardian groaned. But he didn’t remove her arm from his. “My place is at the edge of town, we can keep you there for a bit until we get the basics down.”

Emma made a small note of agreement, noticing a glint of the metal under his jacket again as the sun hit it as they descended towards the town.

Halfway there, the Guardian halted, turning to her with a look of apprehension. “You aren’t one of those magical ones, are you?” He asked, as if he had just thought about it. “Like the witches or the fairies?”

“No,” Emma demurred with a small smile. “Not a witch or a fairy.”

“Good,” he sighed, raking his hair again. “Last thing I need is one of those causing trouble here for a year.”

Emma felt a little bad as he let her into his home, disappearing to find some clothes that may fit her in his closet. She hadn’t lied per say… she wasn’t a witch or a fairy.

But as a child of True Love, she did have some magic in her.

Like the ability to know when someone was lying for instance.

Which is why when later, as Graham explained to her what a television was and how a remote controlled it- she knew he was lying by the tingle along her spine when he growled that he wished he had thrown her back into Fae.

She too was glad he hadn’t.

She had done it, she thought as he prattled on about something called electricity. She had escaped her destiny as the savior of Fae.

Emma pushed away the guilt and shame of her cowardice. She would protect this world instead- without the prophecy hanging over her head and influencing everything she did.

Here, she could just be Emma.

Here, she would find peace.


	2. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: what is the castle thinking as it tries to throw Lacey and the Imp together?

Time passes differently when one is a sentient magical object.

Some years pass in the blink of an eye- and others drag on as if time has stretched into infinity of silence.

However, the Dark Castle took its role rather seriously.

It had been wasting away, decrepit and falling apart- all hope gone as it prepared to succumb to erosion and time.

Until He had come.

The Imp in all his terror and glory had arrived at the drawbridge one day, waking the castle up with his power swirling around him like a suit of armor.

He had taken possession of the castle with little fanfare. He wasn’t there and then he was. The halls were filled with the sounds of his step, his magical treasures filling the hall with more power than it had known before- wakening it up from it’s long slumber.

Sure, it was a dark magic- tinged with hatred, cruelty and want.

But it was alive again. And beggars can’t be choosers.

So, it looked the other way at the evils that visited its master. What did it care for the witches and trolls that knocked open the main hall doors? It was nice to be needed again- even evil needs a home.

It ignored the unheard cries of the innocents that were trapped by magic into puppets and flowers- cursed by its master to a life of torment as magical objects.

It turned cold. The halls chilly and dark.

It turned mean. Stones darkening and cherubs on the roof twisting into gargoyles, sneering down at anyone who dared approach.

It had to.

Until she came.

When the Believer appeared in the great hall, the castle was fully prepared to fling her from the main hall.

She did not belong in this world. She did not belong here.

The loudmouthed human agreed with the castle.

It’s master locked her in the dungeons where she screamed and banged things against the furniture and caused such a ruckus, the castle was forced to add a floor between the dungeons and the main floor just to keep her from giving it’s master a headache.

It didn’t work. Plus, the Master was rather displeased to find his study was now three floors away from his laboratory. He went down to the dungeon and took away her voice, commanding the Castle to put his floors back the way he liked them.

So, the Castle attempted to sooth the human.

It gave her a pitcher. And a pillow. And anything else it thought she might enjoy which wouldn’t anger the master too terribly.

And to its surprise, the master let the little human out of her cage.

Before he even asked, the Castle whipped together a nice little solarium in the farthest tower from it’s Master’s chambers- adding nice little touches it had forgotten it could give.

It was rather pleased at it’s own creativity, truth be told. And it was rather charmed when the little human was so openly pleased at it.

And so, it continued to do little things for the human.

Her windows got slightly larger. Her floor was always warmed in the mornings. Her bed got softer, more pillows appeared and her bath grew deeper without her ever realizing.

The Castle grew fond of the human. She traced her fingertips across all its surfaces, stared up at its rafters in wonder and counted the stones in her walls – memorizing all the little things that made it up.

And she wasn’t afraid of the Master.

Soon, the Castle found itself softening again.

It felt an answering curiosity in the little human in its Master. As annoyed as he was by her, he was curious as well. Plus, he enjoyed baiting her.

So, the Castle didn’t see the harm in helping them along a bit.

If the girl could thaw the darkness in the Castle, perhaps she could thaw the darkness in its Master?

It just had to be careful how it went about it, as it soon learned when Master snarled a warning to turn it back into a pile of stone if it continued to move her things into his personal space.

It seemed as if the Master and the girl didn’t seem to appreciate the help…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The Dark Castle misses Lacey while she's out on her mission. And it won't let the Imp forget it!

_Drip_.

Lifting his gaze from the wheel, the master of the castle glanced about the room, looking for the odd sound that had pulled him from his reverie. The hall was empty save himself, the only sound the soft clicking of the wooden wheel against the frame. The girl was still out in the Second Kingdom, collecting his necessary spell ingredient, which meant he was very much alone. Satisfied, he returned to his task, relaxing as soon as his hands touched the soft thread again.

 _Drip_.

Best to ignore it, he told himself, even as he felt his eye twitch slightly. He moved his hands faster, trying to concentrate on the rhythm of the spinning. If he let his mind empty, let the spinning soothe him….

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip. Drip. DRIP._

“Enough!” He roared, standing up from his stool vehemently enough to knock it backwards. All relaxation and ease gone as he stomped towards the center of the room. The sounds had once again died away, but he could trace the magical signature easily enough. Within seconds he was standing beside a small puddle of water, contained neatly on one flagstone. With a wave of his hand, he moved the water to the outside lawn, glancing up to see the small crack far, far up in the ceiling.

Which just happened to be the woman’s water closet.

With another wave of his hand, he fixed the small crack before retreating to his tower. He had enough things to do without having to deal with the castle’s pleas for attention. He knew as well as the next sorcerer that magically sentintent things grow more sentient over time, in fact, there had been documented tales about objects developing personalities all their own given the right influx of power and time. He had ignored those when he had moved into the abandoned castle here in the Ninth Kingdom, dismissing such stories as magical misunderstandings.

Now, however…

He had first noticed it when the woman came. He had put her in the dungeon, safe, secure and more importantly far away. It wasn’t until he had seen the bloody footprints all over his flagstones that he had realized the stupid thing had been hurt. He had gone done, healed her and received nothing but venom for his assistance.

Then, she had been sick. The castle had echoed her coughs and sniffles louder and louder until he had gone down and given her a potion. He had thought that would be the end of it until he realized some of his potion supplies had gone missing. The castle began a rousing game of hide and seek with his things as it gave her a pillow, a book, a magical filling urn, etc. The entire thing quickly spiraled out of hand.

Faced with living with a growing besotted castle, one that switched staircases that always dropped him in the dungeons or doors that opened up to a small bedroom in the east wing, he had taken the hint. The Dark Castle had taken an odd liking to the Believer living in the dungeon, and it was determined to make sure he knew it.

Thankfully, the girl had not questioned her move from the dungeon to the rooms the castle deemed best for her. She had seemed wary, unappreciative and skeptical but had not questioned his motives beyond that.

Fortunate for him, he thought as he climbed the stairs to his tower. If she had even an inkling of the dormant power of the castle, he very well could wind up on his ass on the drawbridge. As powerful as he was, he was not entirely sure he could keep control of the Dark Castle if it turned against him. It had its own magic, powerful, old and it ran deep into the very soil of the Ninth Kingdom.

So, he had sent her away.

Perfectly safe, he had told her and himself. A mere trip to the seashore to trick a little mermaid into doing his dirty work, perhaps she’d even enjoy herself enough to stay there for the year. He had not expected her to make a deal herself. Nor had he expected her to not only be kidnapped by a selkie, but invite the wrath of the Sea Witch upon herself, the little mermaid and the entire coast of the Seventh Kingdom.

Worse yet, the castle had not taken her departure well. The second he had sent her off in her dinghy, the castle had promptly gone dark, refusing to let any candle light no matter what he had tried. He had been forced to conjure fireballs to float around him the rest of that evening until the castle had finished sulking.

By the time had finally been able to drag her back, he had become fully convinced she had a death wish. She had thrown herself into more perilous situations than he had even foreseen, duly impressive considering he had the gift of sight. Which apparently, he had figured out with much annoyance, did not extend to residents of the Land of the Believers. This Belle was as mysterious to him as the castle’s fascination with her.

Thankfully, having Belle back had instantly calmed the castle. It had stopped with the annoying creaks in the middle of the night or the tea cart following him around squeaking no matter how many times he magically oiled it. Everything had been going fine, until the woman had begun to request to leave.

Surely, it wouldn’t have mattered if she had gone off to play princess with her little mermaid and her darling prince. Not to him, anyways. But he had not wanted to test the castle’s reaction to her disappearing for good. He had a year. One year left living in this realm, one year before he would be able to walk freely in the Land of the Believers, able to finally search the last place left to look.

Until then, he had to keep the castle happy which meant Belle, despite her groans and moans, was staying put. She hadn’t liked that. Despite the castle’s continual efforts to please her, she became despondent, moody and increasingly difficult. He had been thrilled when he realized he could kill two birds with one stones.

Send her on another little mission, while he himself prepared to go away on his own. By the time she finished, he could send her back here as he escaped into his own dealings. She and the damned castle could have all the fun the two of them wanted while he was mercifully away tending to his own business. He just had to wait until she managed to get the witch’s hair… as soon as she had that, he would be able to put his plan in motion.

Transformation spells were tricky, fickle, and as always at the mercy of the sun. Potions on the other hand…

Reaching his tower, he pushed it open to find his cauldron bubbling gently away on the table. It was exactly the right consistency, color and depth for it’s current stage and he let himself enjoy watching it as he thought about the next stages of his plan.

It wasn’t until he heard the soft noise of something scampering in the shadows that he realized he wasn’t alone. With a click of his fingers, he froze the intruder, bringing it forward out of the shadows with a wiggle of his wrist only to find it was nothing but a mouse.

A rather frightened mouse, chewing on what looked to be his bottle of lacewings.

It appeared the castle had let vermin inside to run wild as they may while Belle was away. Sighing, the master of the Dark Castle flicked his wrist, sending the mouse back to the woods where it belonged as he deftly caught the bottle of lacewings in midair.

“Fine,” he grumbled, heading downstairs. “I’ll go get her. Get rid of the mice.”

His only answer was increased silence of the castle as a rather large family of mice found themselves once again in the woods where they belonged, blinking fitfully in the night air. The Dark Castle settled down happily to await the homecoming of it’s favorite resident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the first time we've had POV from our favorite grump! Of course, not a lot of dialogue, but eagle eyed readers might spot the next big plot point!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked me what Ariel and the gang were getting up to back in the Seventh Kingdom, and since I am hoping to get Ariel nominated for Best Supporting Character in the Tumblr Hosted "The Espenson Awards", I thought today was as good a day as any to find out.

The usual hustle and bustle of the royal castle was interrupted as a hollow metallic clanging of something very large and very loud bounced down the great staircase. A few maids stopped what they were doing to pop their heads out into the corridor to see who had just lost their job. A footman appeared from the parlor, looking horrified as a chamber pot went sailing past his head. Only the head of staff, Mr. Grismby, kept his head and pulled the great door of the castle ajar to allow the object in question to bounce past him into the lawn. 

“Sorry!” 

“That’s quite all right, your Royal Highness,” Grimsby sighed, closing the door behind him. “Priscilla?”

A maid came hurrying from the second floor land, pausing ever so slightly to brush the arm of her princess in reassurance on her way down. “Yes, sir?”

“Why is Her Royal Highness carrying her chamber pot down to dinner?”

Priscilla attempted to refrain from grinning, but she was failing miserably. Behind her, the princess in question was hovering nervously on the main landing. “I’m not sure, sir,” Priscilla answered honestly. “I was preparing her rooms for the morning bath.”

“I see,” he said grimly but his face softened as his eyes moved to the woman in question. Everyone knew Grimsby had an unerring dedication to his prince and his loyalty had easily extended to the young woman lingering self consciously on the staircase. All the staff knew he was a soft touch when it came to the soon to be crown princess. After all, he had fallen trying to protect her while Prince Eric had been away at sea, and he bore the scar on his temple proudly. “Princess Ariel, could you be so kind as to explain?”

The redhead nodded, moving down the stairs reluctantly until she stood before him. She toed the floor, avoiding his gaze. “I thought it might be interesting to discuss at dinner.”

“How so?”

Priscilla was already giggling, and Grimsby had to shoot her a warning look. Ariel looked down at her feet, wiggling her toes in her slippers as she hemmed and hawed. “Well, you see, I was curious about-”

“Ariel?”

The front door had opened, The crown prince strolled in, holding the chamber pot in question out in front of him gingerly. Joy flooded Ariel’s face. “Eric! You’re home!”

A footman hurried forward to retrieve the offensive object as Eric smiled at him in relieved gratitude. Before he could say anything, Ariel had thrown herself into his arms, looping her arms about his neck as she looked up at him happily. “Hello,” he whispered, smiling down at her. “I missed you.”

“Your Royal Highness,” Grismby coughed, and Eric reluctantly peeled Ariel’s arms off his neck, but took her arm in his as he turned. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Grismby,” Eric said, a teasing tone in his voice. “I see you’ve been busy.”

The Great Hall was bedecked with flowers on every surface, ribbons and garlands wrapped around the staircase and decorating the columns of the Great Hall. The castle had been undergoing preparations for the Royal Wedding for the past week, and with it only one day away, the anticipation was palpable. 

The rooms were already filled with guests from the other realms of the Seventh Kingdom, and word was that a few brave souls were even coming from various other kingdoms for the festivities. Prince Eric had personally gone to collect his mother’s family from the Sixth Kingdom, and hadn’t been expected home until his wedding day.

“Thank you, Eric,” Grismby said, nodding in approval. “Glad to have you home.”

“I best go back up and finish,” Priscilla said, bobbing a curtsy to the royal couple. 

“Prissy,” Ariel exclaimed, “I’ve almost forgotten! Will you be able to practice my letters again this evening? We won’t have a chance again until we return from the tour and I was so hoping to finish that book tonight.”

Priscilla looked nervously towards Grimsby who, after a moment of consideration, nodded. Priscilla smiled. “I’ll come up when you’re settled.”

As the young maid disappeared back up the stairs, Grimsby was called away on some business concerning the main course. The chef, a very volatile man by the name of Lois, was already shouting the rafters down in the kitchens, claiming he did not have enough crab left to serve an entire wedding party. 

“So, why was there a chamber pot outside?” Eric asked, turning back to his fiance with a teasing smile. He smelled of the ocean, his hair salty and windswept and his cheeks burnt by the sun. His mother would have a fit if she saw him like that, but Ariel thought him handsome as ever. 

Ariel blushed, shrugging her shoulders before she lit back up.”Oh! You have to come see the beach! They’ve set it all up for tomorrow night!”

“Ariel,” Eric laughed, dragging his feet as she tried to pull him along behind her. “It’s almost time for supper. I’ll see it tomorrow morning.”

Ariel looked crestfallen and he realized his mistake. “Come here,” he murmured, and she went into his embrace willingly. He put his chin on her head, letting his fingers curl around her back as she sighed into his chest. “I’m sorry, I know how much it means to you.”

“It’s not that,” she mumbled in his shirt front. “It’s just I wanted to be there with you when you saw it for the first time. Instead, I’ll be up in my room, stuck in the bath tub and hoping I don’t prune too badly before sunset.”

He laughed and Ariel couldn’t help the small grin on her own face. “We have our whole lives to figure this out,” he reminded her fondly. 

“I know,” she replied. “It’s just...your mother mentioned something the other day.”

Eric looked grim. “Heirs?”

Ariel nodded glumly. “She said the current heir, your cousin, is attending tomorrow. She asked if I might keep my ‘condition’ to myself until he left.”

Eric groaned, shaking his head before pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry, she’s not terribly found of him. Remember, the Blue Fairy said with true love anything is possible. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Ariel did not look convinced. “But there’s so much I don’t know. About your world, about being human and...I just wish Belle was here. She would know what to do, I know she would.”

Eric didn’t respond, but tightened his arms around his fiance. The subject of the mysterious woman who had brought them together and helped save their lives and the kingdom was still a touchy subject. It was widely held she was a witch, if not Nix in disguise, come to bring the kingdom into ruin and had only been vanquished by true love. 

Eric was less sure. He had known Belle, seen her laugh and the way she looked at Ariel, half exasperation and half pride. Unsure what to say, he changed subjects. “Is your family coming tomorrow?”

It was Ariel’s turn to groan. “No, they’re not terribly trusting of humans. The delegation will meet us when we reach sea.” She looked torn. “ Are you really sure you want to go to sea for the bridal tour?”

“I want to see where you’re from,” he reminded her. “The island you mentioned will suit us fine.”

“You’re mother doesn’t think so,” Ariel grumbled but she relented. Nearby, a servant appeared to signal it was time to enter the dining hall for dinner. Eric stepped back away from her, and Ariel glared at the servant who hastily retreated. “I hate all these rules,” she complained as they made their way towards the hall. 

“Only one more day,” Eric teased her, his fingers resting on the small of her back where tingles shot up her spine. “And then we can run away to sea together.”

Ariel giggled, just as they turned the corner to find the King and Queen already seated at the table. She blushed again, as Eric pulled her seat out before seating himself opposite her. 

“Evening,” Ariel greeted with a shy smile. She had never quite gotten on with Eric’s parents, understandable after they had tried to have her imprisoned for witchcraft. It had only been due to Eric’s insistence he would give up his crown to be with her that they had consented to the marriage. 

It probably helped that Belle had been declared lost at sea. Even the men from the beach had trouble remembering seeing what happened to her after she had saved Eric through some magical enchantment known as Cepee Arh. 

After everything had settled down, Eric had taken her down to the cottage he had once visited with Belle. A gangly man in spectacles, his red hair tousled and creased had opened the door, yawning at the lateness of the house. However, he had instantly recognized them, and introduced himself as Jiminy. He had been unable to provide any idea where Belle may have gone, claiming she had arrived just as mysteriously as she had disappeared. 

Ariel had made sure to invite him and his ward, Pinocchio, to the wedding and Eric had made plans to help educate the boy before finding him a position in the royal navy when he came of age. The fact that the little boy was still half puppet did not seem to worry anyone in town or at the castle, as their beloved new princess was commonly known to be a mermaid. 

They were joined at table by the Queen’s family from the Fifth Kingdom, a proud family with ties to the royalty at home. They were interested in Ariel, and she answered questions as vaguely as she could. The King sighed his way through the main course, but by dessert he seemed to have drank enough of the wine to relax. 

As everyone adjoined to the sitting room, Eric motioned for her to hang back and she did, looking quizzically at him as the servants lingered behind the partition, waiting for them to depart. The footmen looked about nervously as Grimsby busied himself with the silver, pointedly ignoring them.

“This time tomorrow you’ll be my wife,” Eric whispered, cupping her elbow. He let his fingers play with the bare skin where her gloves ended and she shivered as she leaned into him. 

“You’ll be my husband,” she agreed. 

“No regrets?” Eric asked her, and Ariel shook her head, her eyes bright. 

“None,” she replied earnestly. “I loved you the moment I saw you.”

“As did I,” he said. “I’ll never forget the way you looked in the candlelight, or the first time I heard your voice.”

“Hard to forget that,” Ariel laughed in protest. “You had just come back from the dead.”

“For you,” he said softly, leaning in to kiss her gently. She stood up on her tiptoes, meeting him halfway as they ignored the world around them. 

When they broke apart, Ariel had tears in her eyes. “Ariel,” Eric exclaimed, “what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she hiccuped, dashing at her eyes. “I’m just so happy.”

“That’s a good thing,” he reminded her, brushing the tears off her cheeks with his thumb. 

“Is that fair though?” Ariel asked him, catching his hand in hers. “After everything that happened...asking you to give up so much? You heard your family at dinner, heir this and heir that. And I still have no idea what they mean when they’re talking about lands and acres. Eric, I’m scared.”

“Shh,” he murmured. Grimsby had stilled, and Eric knew the old man was listening intently in concern. “What did your maids say when I brought you back here after the storm?”

“That I belonged here,” Ariel said softly, remembering her friends’ faces. They had been beside themselves with relief she was back, listening intently as she explained her needs. Now Prissy and Charlie were her two truest friends, soon to be promoted to her personal ladies in waiting after the wedding. They had also been the ones to stay up with her as she cried, scared of the future, missing the past and uncertain of the present. And they had known and loved Belle too, and they missed her almost as much as Ariel did. 

“You belong here,” Eric repeated. “Belle knew that better than any of us.”

“I know,” Ariel sniffed. “I just miss her Eric. I miss her so much. I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” he reassured her. “She always lands on her feet that one.”

“I wanted her to be here,” Ariel confessed, “for the wedding.”  
Eric nodded. “I would have liked that too. I like to think she’s out there finding someone else their happily ever after. Who knows, maybe she was a godmother in training. Now, shall we?” he asked, gesturing towards the door.

They went together to meet the future and all the challenges and joys it would bring.

They had no way of knowing that somewhere far, far away, the woman responsible for bringing them together was in another ballroom, thinking of them just as fondly as they were thinking of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this brief sight into Ariel. I like to think she's learned a lot in the past month and a half she's been living in the castle but I can imagine some one of the conversations. 
> 
> As you can see Grimsby recovered from wound defending Ariel and was pardoned for his attempt to interfere with her arrest. Eric is ready to escape to sea one more time before he settles down to run a kingdom with his new bride and down in the village Jiminy and Pinoc are doing well and learning to live without Gepetto. 
> 
> Also, I had to give a cameo to the beloved maid Pricilla who is in fact an original character based off my fave - Prissygirl. Charlotte or Charlie is named after one of the Gate's original fans, thecompletebookworm, who I've always been grateful for as a friend and reader.


End file.
